A Case Study
by PrincessPeace15
Summary: Hmm... Earth and Heaven have become one. Surely, an author could help to put it in the proper light. A self-insert? Oh, as much as I want to, and have my ways... I shouldn't. That's no fun for the reader. Hmm... Okay... how about an in-depth look at what the characters of Rhythm Heaven Megamix like and dislike? That's SCIENTIFIC storytelling... or just regular, reason storytelling.
1. Too Hard (Paprika's Disliking Whining)

Hmm… a bare walkway. AGAIN.

The man beneath the red cloak could have sworn he'd latched his vision onto every single living being that walked down the city sidewalk that sat perpendicular to the Challenge Train's main pathway. Come on… doesn't one of you crave a rush like this once in a while? Three lives! Flow balls! MONEY on the line!

He'd been told that nobody can please everyone.

He didn't think they meant that he couldn't please _anyone_ , either.

…Hey, was that a kid? _Skipping toward the Challenge Train?!_

His heart fluttering, the man, better known as Paprika, smiled and said "Ah, hello! This is the Challenge Train! I… take it you're going solo?"

Where was this kid's parents, come to think of it? He scanned the immediate area, but not one man or woman... not one person… seemed to be searching for him.

The kid, a spry little squirt that seemed about 11 years of age, took a smug look at the price board. Going with friends gets you in free, and going solo will cost you five coins. Paprika dared not complain about any money shortages around his brother Saffron, who'd give him a lifetime of flak for it within two minutes. "Ya gotta charge more! What are you doing?!" Being a not-monster, that's what.

This same board also explained some very basic rules. Like "You must see this challenge through to the end. You may not leave the train until you've either won or lost."

"…Yeah, I don't have anyone else," the kid replied, reaching into his pocket, handling five coins, and handing them to Paprika, who took them with joy.

As Paprika opened the cash drawer (why weren't there spiders or cobwebs on this thing?), the kid scanned the challenge names underneath each of the three worlds: Saffron World, Saltwater World, and Paprika World. Three brothers, each designing his own world. Saffron World was designed for the beginners (no matter how much its creator shouted otherwise), Saltwater World was for those who weren't pros but wanted a challenge, and Paprika World was for the truly daring.

"Yeah…" the kid thought aloud. "…I'll take Copycats."

…That was under Paprika World.

He'd never seen this kid before. He'd seen a select few people aside from his brothers, and this kid was definitely not one of them. That meant he could never have gotten the necessary experience to take on anything in Paprika World! He SO wanted to open his mouth…

But this was five coins.

"Alright, kid," he shrugged. "Have fun!"

The kid sprinted over to the first train in this empty line of 4. Once he was in the train, Paprika put his hand on the control panel to his left and lifted the lever for Train #1, and heard its whistle as it went off into the distance.

He looked at the city again. Perhaps this kid's… enthusiasm, or whatever you wanna call it… had put excitement to the Challenge Train and enticed some customers!

The sidewalk was empty. The one on this side of the street, that is.

Paprika sighed, rested his head in his right hand, and dove deep into thought. How was this kid going to do? He didn't look the talented type… Agh, there he went, judging books by covers again! He had to quit doing that! That was a Saffron habit! …A lot of things were Saffron habits…

…Trains… What had inspired this motif? Boats would cost too much because of all the water… and cars were overrated, right? You see them on the road all the time. What would make you want to get into yet another one?

After a while, Paprika snapped back to reality and tapped a button on his phone to realize that 15 minutes had gone by.

…Wait, 15 minutes?! The longest challenge on the entire docket was only 4! What was-

"I'm out," snapped a tiny, yet familiar voice from outside his stand.

Paprika peeked out the window.

It was the kid.

He was out of the train, and was walking away.

Paprika hadn't gotten the signal to advance or retract the train. Not one signal.

This kid was out of the train, and said train was STILL IN PAPRIKA WORLD.

"Hey, bub!" Paprika snapped. "Didn't you read the rules of this operation?!"

"What rules?" asked the kid, continuing to walk away. "These challenges are too hard. Make them easier."

"But…" Paprika fumed. "YOU CHOSE THE HARDEST CHALLENGES!"

"But they're HARD!" the kid shouted back at him before running back into the city.

Paprika stormed out of the booth and into Paprika World… to find that the whiny little brat had shattered Train #1's window. Oh, how he wanted to kick something… That kid certainly looked like a hackey sack in his mind from this day forward...

The defeated soul under the red cloak was muttering quite evil things for the rest of the day.


	2. Pipsqueak (Barista's Disliking F Chord)

To say that someone could ever feel pure agony behind a guitar… It would likely seem a hogwash statement to the common listener.

Since when has anyone felt torture behind a guitar? You see them at parties and on street corners. More than often, whoever is plucking the strings is doing so to either attract a mate, bring out the happiness in the air, or perhaps try to find happiness of their own. Or a gumbo of it all. In all of these endeavors, success is almost guaranteed, as are smiles. You never see agony at a bonfire, when someone is playing an old favorite on a fresh wooden guitar.

Sure, learning the ways of a guitar might seem like agony… but more than often, what ends up happening is either defeat or pride. Usually, when someone is learning the guitar, one of two things is bound to happen. Either the short-tempered soul sets the guitar down and decides never to return, or the talent is eventually picked up, and all those dissonant chords and empty hours are completely worth it.

…But here… for the pup with the headphones… each strum of the guitar rattled his mind with memories fresh and horrid.

Some of his earliest memories were those of being bullied for his dot-like eyes and his lonely being.

"Pipsqueak" was a frequent one.

Oh, they were all much bigger dogs, the specific gang that did this for fun. Bigger breeds. Bigger potentials. The torment, the names… Memory had a hard time serving the points at which it all ended once it decided to begin. Memory skips right from that to the times he'd walk past the yard where the gang hung out.

They'd do their group vow (which memory couldn't necessarily serve), then strum the F chord on the guitar. Like their musical call. Their theme song. Their _symbol_.

This pup, who called himself a barista, had to admit he had it much better now. He was dry. He was warm. A roof and walls surrounded him, and for being surrounded, he couldn't be happier.

Nevertheless, he sat in front of a guitar.

And it ate away at his heart. More than often, he'd strum, then immediately punch the poor instrument so hard he nearly punctured the wood.

Agony behind a guitar is hogwash, they would say.

Oh, they would… if they could ever play more than an F chord.


End file.
